When Fates Collide
by ArSommers
Summary: ["The Tale of the Bear and the Dragon", Book 6] As Daenerys and Jorah continue to strike a deal with the North, a prophecy is revealed in the most unexpected of ways.
1. Chapter 1

The walkway closing the distance between ships creaked as boards met deck. Grey Worm stepped off, accompanied by five other Unsullied and three Dothraki as they prepared to make future arrangements regarding Wintefell.  
"Will Daenerys be joining us?" Grey Worm asked Jorah. It was unlike their queen not to greet them on deck.  
"I'm afraid Her Grace isn't feeling well," Jorah said. "We believe it was the fish we caught and served last night. One of our oarsmen fell ill as well, albeit with a worse case than she had,"  
Grey Worm nodded. Such was the way of traveling by sea. "I take it Missandei is tending to her?"  
"Yes. It will just be you and I today,"  
Jorah led Grey Worm to the meeting room where they took a seat. A bowl of mixed berries was placed at the center of the table, precious fruit gathered from their trip to Bear Island a few days prior. Jorah doubted they would dine on such delicacies where they were headed. From what Lyanna told him, Winterfell was facing a crushing winter, much worse than that on Bear Island. The Starks were always saying winter was coming; apparently winter had finally come.  
"If Jon Snow accepts our offer to ride with us to King's Landing, Daenerys wishes for us to remain in Winterfell until we have formulated a concrete plan, and then taken ahold of the throne," Jorah explained. "Once the Lannisters have been overthrown, the northerners will sail back to their newly succeeded Kingdom,"  
"And if they don't accept our offer?" Grey Worm asked.  
"We will head back to Dragonstone to regroup," Jorah said, "And possibly reach out to make an alliance with Dorne,"  
Jorah could see their trip to Winterfell going either way, though he hoped the North would align with Daenerys in her quest to take the iron throne. While they were at Bear Island Jorah and Daenerys had been informed Tyrion Lannister and a man by the name of Varys had joined Jon Snow in the North, and that the Lannister was now Hand to Jon. If this were true, perhaps Tyrion's departure from King's Landing would play in their favor in that he would encourage Jon to join them in uprooting his sister. Of course, the flip side could happen as well: Tyrion may want no part in placing a new Queen on the throne, and only desire to fight for the North.  
"What would we do then," Jorah thought, "If the North were to turn us away?" Jon Snow was known to be a fair and just man like his father, but what would happen if swords were to suddenly turn on them? The Unsullied and Dothraki would be able to overthrow Wintefell, but not all of the North.  
Jorah heard a screech through the wooden walls, and the ship rocked slightly to one side, and then the other. No doubt Drogon had just flown overhead. This simple act filled Jorah with newfound courage. They had a dragon on their side, and in the end the Red Keep was no match for the fire of a dragon.


	2. Chapter 2

Daenerys had become so accustomed to wearing braids that it felt strange whenever her hair was in its natural state. As was Dothraki custom, she'd increased the number every time she won a victory. At first she'd been able to maintain a couple of the less intricate designs herself, but time proved that if she were to keep up this tradition she would need some to assist her. This task had been assigned to Missandei.  
Unfortunately that day Missandei had been tending to the Queen since the early hours of the morning. There wasn't much that could be done until the sickness ran its course, but after a few hours Missandei noticed her Queen and her friend was doing significantly better.  
"I should be attending the meeting," Daenerys asserted as she nibbled on a saltine cracker, "Not sitting here like some idly,"  
"I would recommend resting for at least twenty-four hours," Missandei said, "Just to ensure you are all right,"  
"Daenerys shook her head in defeat, but she knew Missandei was right; at one point earlier she'd thought the sickness had passed, only to have a new wave of nausea take ahold of her. "As long as this clears before we land at Winterfell, I suppose there is no harm done,"  
Missandei gave a knowing smile, as if she knew some hidden secret. "What is it?" Daenerys asked.  
"Your Grace," she said, "Have you considered that you may be carrying a child?"  
The room was filled with silence for a moment. "Would that I were," Daenerys said sadly. "I cannot have children, not after what Mirri Maz Duur did to me,"  
"Are you certain of this?"  
Daenerys took Missandei's hands in hers. "What happened to Rhaego and myself must sound strange, but I assure you the prophecy is very real. I cannot have my own children, not until the sun rises in the west and sets in the east, nor until the seas are parched and the mountains scatter like ash,"  
"I have not seen such things," Missandei admitted, "But I do know with all the travel we have partaken in since we departed Meereen it sometimes appears the sun rises in the west and sets in the east, depending on which way the ship is pointing. As for dried seas, have we not landed on Dragonstone, or even Bear Island, where the sea dries and gives way to land? Likewise, when we leave land behind the mountains grow smaller as we sail further, as if drifting away on their own,"  
Daenerys pondered Missandei's words. She'd always assumed Mirri Maz Duur spoke symbolically. Could it have been that there was a literal, albeit less majestic, approach to what was foretold?  
"There was another prophecy," Daenerys said, "Before we departed Meereen. An old woman said that 'when the magic is no more' I would 'receive what has been taken away',"  
"And what magic would that be?" Missandei asked. "I have seen no magic, but I have noticed that you are beginning to swell. At first I wasn't sure, but after this morning I am positive that certain changes have taken place,"  
Daenerys began to feel light-headed. She had not bled since before they landed on Dragonstone a few months prior, and she had loved her husband Jorah many times while they were on the island. It was almost as if the castle walls themselves had unleashed a power of their own, bringing about a newfound sense of power and purpose to their rightful heir.  
"Can…can you bring me a glass of fresh water?" Daenerys asked as she absentmindedly placed her hand on her abdomen. "Perhaps some extra rest is what I may require after all,"  
Before Missandei left Daenerys turned with one last request. "Please do not speak of this to anyone," she said. "I do not wish for Jorah to know until after we have spoken to Jon Snow at Winterfell,"  
Missandei smiled and bowed. "Of course,"


	3. Chapter 3

The snow fell heavily as the Targaryen ships approached Winterfell. The queen couldn't help but giggle as the snow almost instantaneously gathered and clung to Jorah's hair. He shook his head vigorously, the white crystals dissolving under his fingertips as he brushed them away and chuckled along with her. "He's a good man," Daenerys thought as she brushed some of the more stubborn crystals from his beard, "And he will make a fine father,"  
It was all Daenerys could do not to tell Jorah about their child, but she'd told herself she would wait until after they had spoken to the King of the North about their efforts to take the throne from the Lannisters. Both Daenerys and Jorah were already on edge about securing their temporary allegiance with this visit, so at the present the she felt no need to add to the list of thoughts currently occupying Jorah's mind.  
They were greeted at the gates by the Stark children: Jon, Sansa, Arya, and Bran. Among their greeters were also Davos Seaworth, Brienne of Tarth, Tormund Giantsbane, Varys, and Tyrion Lannister. Daenerys was even more wary about trusting the latter, though since he was Hand of the King to Jon she could not say much on the matter.  
"On behalf of House Stark and all it's inhabitants, welcome to Winterfell," Jon greeted Daenerys. "Please, follow us inside,"  
"He does not look very kingly," Daenerys thought as she rode her horse through the gates. The man wore no crown, nor displayed any jewels. That could very well be because he was wrapped in furs to keep warm from the biting cold, but then again the animal skins were not woven in any elaborate pattern either. She decided she liked the humble approach about him.  
While the walls of Winterfell did provide protection from the wind and snow, it did little to heat its inhabitants. Even still, torches roared in their holders, flickering bits of angry orange as they passed by. Had she been alone, Daenerys would have held her hands to the flame for warmth.  
"I will not have my child born amidst this cold," Daenerys decided. "Whether we secure an alliance with the North or not, Jorah and I will sail back to Dragonstone. My son or daughter deserves to not only be born in a safer climate, but in the Targaryen castle, within walls where I can more assuredly provide safety," She looked over at Jorah as he dismounted his horse, then helped her down. "This baby will change everything," she thought as she took his hand, "And nothing at the same time,"

"I'm afraid your arrival coincides with harsh circumstances," Jon said, Tyrion sitting on his right and Sansa on his left. "We lost many men while we battled the dead. Those that did not succumb to wounds have perished by the winter winds, among them the women and children as well,"  
"And you receive no aid from King's Landing?" Daenerys asked. "Surely they know of what is happening here?"  
"Aye, they do," Jon said. "They feel the effects of the weather as well, though I'm told the weather is not nearly as ruthless there,"  
"It is a crime," Daenerys said, "That families as rich as the Lannisters let the people they govern suffer while they sit idly in their towers," She looked at each of the faces seated at the high table. "Under my rule I would never allow such things to happen,"  
"We do not wish for another ruler," Sansa interjected briskly. "The North has already declared Jon their King,"  
"So I've been told," Daenerys said coolly, "And I am willing to accept that. But you must understand the Lannisters are unpredictable. When I was in Essos my city was unexpectedly attacked because I was seen as an usurper. Given time, I fear the Lannisters would turn on Winterfell in retaliation for the North trying to succeed from the Seven Kingdoms,"  
"They have had plenty of opportunities and have not done so yet," Jon said.  
"But they could very well soon. Cersei has been trying for years to further the Lannister's reach by marrying her children. Now that she has lost them all, she has nothing left to lose. In order to keep hold of the Kingdoms she will vanquish anyone she sees as a threat," Daenerys let her voice soften. "But it doesn't have to be this way. If we unite in the cause to bring down the Lannisters, I promise you the North will not only succeed from the Seven Kingdoms peacefully, but will receive aid until the winter has finished,"  
Daenerys could practically see the wheels turning in Jon's head as he tried to decide what was best for his people. "I understand what you are trying to do," Jon finally said, "And in some ways one may even admire it. But I'm afraid the loss the North has taken is too great to be of service to your cause,"  
Daenerys realized she had lost them. She momentarily placed her hand on her stomach, in hopes the child would give her strength to press forward. Then a thought occurred to her. It was risky, but sometimes a risk was all it took. "Forgive me Jorah," she thought.  
"The Lannisters may use this time of weakness to as an opportunity to strike," Daenerys said. "They know what a harsh winter does to a kingdom. But we have to think not only of the present we live in, but the future we leave for our children as well," She placed both her hands on her stomach, "My own included,"  
pA murmur went through the crowd as they digested this new piece of information. Daenerys couldn't help but steal a quick glance at Jorah as the North men and women made comments among themselves. His face was a mixture of expressions, from surprise to wonder to loving admiration. But she could say nothing on the matter to him, not until they were alone once more.  
"We would not attack until after my child is born half a year from now," Daenerys said. "If you join our cause, we will provide you with food and whatever else we can afford through this winter, starting this very night should you agree,"  
Sansa looked at Jon. "She knows how long their harvest and provisions will keep them alive," Daenerys thought. "Perhaps they are lacking as a Kingdom not only men, but supplies as well," Despite her best to remain indifferent to the North, Daenerys felt a tug of concern for them as well. The winters here were not to be taken lightly; she could see that now.  
"You have an army of Unsullied," Jon clarified.  
"Correct," Daenerys said. "But more are required if we are to take King's Landing,"  
Jon spoke quietly with Tyrion and Varys, though she could not hear the words uttered. She looked at her own council as well. Grey Worm was stoic and calculated as ever; Missandei eagerly watched the men and women at the head table speak; and Jorah- well, Jorah was still staring in shocked disbelief at his queen.  
"Then it is agreed," Jon said. "In exchange for a peaceful succession and provisions, we will help you in obtaining the Iron Throne,"


	4. Chapter 4

"Have you gone completely mad?"  
"Sansa, I only-"  
"You only what?" Sansa asked. "Aligned the North to a cause it has no right to partake in!"  
"You know I never would have done this if I was not thinking about the betterment of the North itself," Jon insisted. "Our people are suffering Sansa! You know that as well as I do. Between the war with the dead and dwindling rations, Daenerys' arrival may be the difference between whether or not we survive the winter,"  
"And whether or not she turns her back on us and burns Winterfell to the ground," Sansa's expression softened slightly. "We don't know her Jon. And we don't even know if she really is expecting a child,"  
"She is," Arya said definitively. "You could tell by the look in her eyes when she announced it. Like she was hopeful and almost scared at the same time,"  
Jon couldn't help but stare at Arya incredulously. When had the little spunky girl he'd grown up with become so keenly aware of everything?  
Rubbing his temples, Jon said "If it's any consolation, the Mormont's have expressed their support of the Targaryen cause as well. I have no doubt that one day Cersei will come for us. And if we have an army and a dragon on our side when we clash, the odds are that we, as a unified North, will finally be able to live in independent peace when this is all said and done,"

Daenerys agreed to spend four nights in Winterfell before they returned to Dragonstone; however, by the first evening she was already regretting the decision. She learned that to survive the winter night the people in the North would wear layers and sleep under the thickest furs available, as the cold was so intense. Thankfully a room had already been prepared for her and Jorah, so after she'd discovered the warmest blankets and placed them on the bed she paced back and forth, waiting for her husband.  
When Jorah opened the door the apologies began flooding out of Daenerys before she could stop them. "I hope you will forgive me," she said as he walked briskly over, "I was planning on waiting to tell you until-"  
Jorah pulled her into an embrace and cut her off with a kiss. Whatever tension Daenerys feared melted away instantaneously.  
"How long have you known?" Jorah asked when he finally drew away.  
"A little over a week." Daenerys said, "Which is why I've been postponing our dueling sessions. I couldn't risk hurting our baby,"  
"I see," Jorah paused for a moment, and then asked "Are you certain? I thought you were unable to have children,"  
Daenerys took Jorah's hands and placed them on her stomach. The child was not visible under her coat, but his or her existence had become more apparent as the last week drew on.  
"Believe it my love," she said, her eyes shining, "It is true. Mirri Maz Duur's prophecy came to pass,"  
"But you cannot say the same of the other prophecy you received in Meereen," a thought persisted in the back of Daenerys' mind. "How will your life return to normal if the magic isn't dead?" She pushed the thought away, not wanting to consider what it might mean. Should she catch anyone using magic anywhere near her, she would deal with them herself. Harshly.  
Jorah broke into a giddy smile as if he were drunk. "This is the most wonderful news," he laughed, giving her another kiss. "I…I don't know even what to say," His eyes fell to her stomach, as if willing himself to see the child they created. "How have you been feeling?" he asked.  
"Quite well, all things considered,"  
"Then in four days time we will sail back to Dragonstone," Jorah said. "From there we will draw out our plans for King's Landing and prepare provisions for the people of the North until our child is born. In the meantime I will send ravens to Meereen, asking them to send some of their best midwives to our castle," Jorah wrapped Daenerys in another embrace. "I will take care of both of you," he whispered in her ear, "I promise,"


	5. Chapter 5

"Are you sure of this?" Cersei asked the lone messenger who stood at the foot of the throne.  
"Yes," the man answered. "We have reports from multiple sources claiming that they've seen Targaryen flags flown from masts on Northern seas," The man shifted uncomfortably. "We've also heard tales, albeit harder to prove, that the Targaryen woman is expecting a child,"  
Cersei clenched her fists. This was news she had not anticipated. "Who speaks such things?"  
"Sailors and merchants at the ports, your Grace,"  
"Hardly reliable sources of information," Qyburn said, his voice dropping so only Cersei could hear. "It may be idle chatter,"  
"And it may not be," Cersei stood up to address the messenger. "Thank you for your report. We will look further upon these matters,"  
Once the messenger had been led out of the chambers, Cersei ordered a bottle of red wine brought forward.  
"We should have expected this," Cersei commented after a particularly large swallow from the glass. "Surely she wants to begin producing offspring to secure what she considers her legacy,"  
The thought in and of itself angered Cersei. Why should she lose all three of her children while this young usurper not only gains power, but also expands her family? Daenerys had hardly set foot in Westeros, and yet Cersei could almost feel the power she'd been building for years begin to crumble.  
"No," she though bitterly. "I won't let it,"  
"Perhaps Daenerys will become too cautious, or even too ambitious, for her own good, given her present situation," Jaime suggested.  
"No," Cersei said. "I believe this child will put things into perspective for her, which makes her all the more dangerous,"  
"How can you be so sure?"  
Cersei took another drink. "Because, as a mother, it's how I would have behaved," Even though Cersei hated to admit it, she and Daenerys, in some ways, were two sides of the same coin. Both would fight until their last breath for their children. "This so called 'Mother of Dragons' sees herself as a mother of those she rules…of the innocent and the slaves. We have seen what she has done when they are oppressed. Now imagine how she will behave when she has a child of her own flesh and blood,"


	6. Chapter 6

The chill of the sea breeze felt nice on Daenerys' face. Even though the cold air circulated in the bedchamber on Dragonstone, a single furred blanket sufficed to keep her and Jorah warm. To top it off, the queen had the blood of the dragon flowing through her veins, which provided her with an extra layer of comfort on these frozen nights. Of course, this higher body temperature warmed Jorah when he shared the bed as well, so much so that he needn't a tunic. So she lay there on his chest, listening to Jorah's heart beat while his torso rose and fell with every breath.  
"What do you think we should name our baby," she asked as she looked up, "If it is a boy?"  
Jorah tilted his head sideways and, stroking her hair, responded with his own question. "Do you have any names in mind?"  
"I've named more males than I thought I would at this point this lifetime," she said, referring to her dragons. Of course, she'd never been one hundred percent certain they were all males, but the names had been fitting nonetheless. "Are there any names that strike your fancy?"  
"If it is a boy, wouldn't mind naming him after my father," Jorah said. "But with a 'g' instead of a 'j',"  
"Geor Targaryen," Daenerys tested the name aloud, then smiled. "It has a nice ring to it. And if it is a girl?"  
Jorah paused as he considered some options. "There have not been many women that left an impact on my life," he admitted, "Save for you, Khaleesi. What are your thoughts on the matter?"  
"I haven't had many women to model my life after either," Daenerys confessed, "Though there are times I wish I had guidance from my own mother. I've considered Rhaella as a name, after the mother I never knew,"  
"That's a beautiful name," Jorah said. Then, he asked "Have the midwives been able to ascertain the gender?"  
"The three seem unable to agree on conclusions," Daenerys said. "Two say male, one female," Daenerys wished she'd had the wisest of the midwives with her, but the woman had been elderly and passed away en route from Meereen. "However, they all agree that everything is progressing as it should at roughly 21 weeks,"  
Jorah kissed the top of her head. "That's all that matters to me,"  
It was nice, Daenerys thought, not having to worry whether or not she was carrying a son. Throughout the world men were often seen as the superior sex; now Daenerys, as a queen, was proving that women could be just as powerful. It did not matter if a man or woman sat on the throne; what mattered was the individual's ability to lead and love his or her people.  
And thus, just as Daenerys had hoped, the wheel was already beginning to break.


	7. Chapter 7

"I'm not getting paid enough for this," Garrison thought as a squeal came from below deck. He'd done many things during his time as a sellsword, but transporting infected animals was a first.  
Garrison wondered whose brilliant idea it was to let loose infected animals on Dragonstone…probably that sick-minded Qyburn. Granted, sending an armada would surely alert Daenerys and her Unsullied army, but a half dozen ships without banners…there was a good chance they could slip by undetected, so long as they moored far enough away from the castle and unloaded the beasts as quickly as they could. Then it was up to the tainted animals to infect other wild creatures on the island and do the rest. Granted, the human inhabitants would probably catch on pretty quickly that the land animals were unfit for nutrition, causing the number of human fatalities to be low. But if they were unable to eat creatures of the land they would not only be forced to consume fish from the sea, but cut back on the provisions they were sending to the North as well.  
A thud forced Garrison from his thoughts. If another animal broke out of the stalls, the crew was going to get an earful from him.  
Garrison gritted his teeth. Personally, he preferred hand-to-hand combat, not this beating-around-the-bush nonsense. He himself had single handedly wounded Jorah Mormont, and had come quite close to drowning that Daenerys Targaryen broad with his bare hands. It would be quite anti-climatic if their deaths were merely due to some bad meat that couldn't keep quiet on a voyage.  
"May they be spared," Garrison wished aloud as he took a swig of mead, "So that I can come face-to-face with them one more time,"


	8. Chapter 8

Daenerys knew she was dreaming.  
The queen's surroundings had a shimmering, almost crystal-like quality, but it didn't make the hallucination feel any less real. In this fictional world she was still in bed, though Jorah was no longer sleeping by her side.  
Daenerys searched for her cloak to cover herself from the cold, but she found that in the dream the air was warm, as if it were spring. So instead she carefully got out of bed, cradling her stomach as she stared out the open window at the sea beyond. The sky was painted a bright red, reminding her dragon's flame; or of blood.  
"Moon of my life,"  
Nothing in the world could have made Daenerys turn around faster. Khal Drogo stood in the doorway, each braid and every stroke of blue war paint just as she remembered.  
At first Daenerys was hesitant to move. Was this the return that Mirri Maz Duur spoke of? Or simply the result of lucid dream, pushing forth memories that time had dulled but not erased? She glanced around the room again for Jorah, but he was nowhere to be seen. It was only her and her first.  
"My sun and my stars," Walking around the master bed that separated them, Daenerys embraced the Khal as if greeting a lost loved one. She clutched onto him tightly, as if in letting go she would lose him all over again. She was not sure how long she stood there, as time seemed to slow and speed up simultaneously in this fantastical fictitious world.  
Then, without warning, a sudden pain shot through Daenery's abdomen. Looking downwards, Daenerys realized in horror that a portion of her nightgown was now seeping with blood. And the person standing before her was no longer Khal Drogo, but a woman with straw colored hair and a crown upon her head - Cersei Lannister herself.  
"You should never have come back," Cersei's face twisted into a corrupt smile as Daenerys let out a scream, a scream that wrenched her from the dream back to reality.  
"Daenerys, please, wake up!"  
When Daenerys opened her eyes she was sitting upright in bed, the vague outline of Jorah before her as he grasped her arms firmly. "Khaleesi, what is it?"  
It took Daenerys a moment to reorient herself. The shimmering light was gone, replaced by the cold shadows of reality, but reality nonetheless, and one that bore her no physical pain at that.  
"It-It was a dream," Daenerys explained. "I had a dream that Cersei-" She broke off when she realized she felt a sensation underneath the covers that she shouldn't have.  
"Jorah, get a light," she said after a moment. "I think something has happened to the baby,"  
Jorah stumbled out of bed, fumbling in the darkness for a candle to light the room. When he struck a small flame he brought it over, but before his eyes had adjusted to the scene Daenerys let out a small cry.  
"Jorah," Daenerys voice hitched in her throat, "Bring the midwives, now," It was then that he noticed the spotting of blood on the sheets.  
"Stay right there," Jorah ordered, "And don't move until I return," Jorah brought the candle with him as he departed the room, allowing Daenerys to become swallowed in the darkness once again.  
Daenerys placed trembling hands on her stomach. "Give me some a that you are all right," she said to the child. She waited, hoping for a flutter or kick, but couldn't feel a thing. "Please," she begged louder this time, "I need to know you're okay," Nothing.  
Desperate, Daenerys involuntarily grasped the necklace that held the teeth of the deceased Rhaegal and Viserion. She clutched the incisors tightly, as if this could somehow give her strength in the present situation, though all it did was slice her palms. When the wounds opened she never felt a thing.  
Daenerys continued speaking words of encouragement in hopes that the life inside her would move, repeating phrases over and over until someone entered the room. It wasn't one of the midwives as she expected, but Missandei.  
"Your Grace!" Missandei placed a candle on the nearest table and rushed to Daenerys' side.  
There was nothing Daenerys could say that would provide any insight into the situation, nor did Missandei know what to say until they'd heard a professional opinion on the matter. So she sat on the edge of the bed and held Daenerys' hand, not as a handmaiden or advisor, but as a friend.

"The heartbeat of your child is strong," one of midwifes told Jorah and Daenerys. "There is no immediate cause for concern,"  
Jorah rubbed his temples. With everything that happened with Rhaego, he'd feared the worst. "Could this episode have been caused by consuming any of the sickened animals?" he asked.  
"That is unlikely," another midwife answered. "If it were the case the Queen would have expressed other symptoms,"  
"Even if the heartbeat is strong," Daenerys asked, "How can you be sure something didn't happen to him?"  
"Him?"  
Daenerys fell silent. She wasn't sure why she used that particular pronoun to refer to the baby; perhaps because her first child, Rhaego, had been a boy. Maybe seeing Khal Drogo in her mind's eye merely twenty minutes prior had triggered this response.  
"How do we know that no injury has befallen our child?" Jorah rephrased the question.  
"Bleeding can occur for a variety of reasons," the midwife with the stethoscope said. "We will monitor the situation closely until the child has come to term, but I can assure you everything else at this stage is progressing as it should,"  
"You didn't see Cersei's face," Daenerys wanted to argue, "Nor feel a phantom pain before being awoken to the sight of blood. You are not the child's mother,"  
"Thank you," Jorah said. "Missandei, please escort them back to their bed chambers. We will send for you all again at sunrise,"  
Daenerys waited until the guests left the room before saying to Jorah "There are no such things as coincidences when it comes to matters such as these,"  
As Jorah sat back down on the bed he brought Daenerys into an embrace. At first she flinched-the gesture reminded her too much of the dream- but she also knew she was awake and alone with her husband, so she allowed herself to meld into his arms. "I can't lose another one," she confessed. "I just can't,"  
Jorah grappled for comforting words. Ever since the death of her brother Viserys, Daenerys had taken every opportunity to show courage in front of her people. Now here she was, vulnerable and seeking his strength to carry her forward. Jorah realized he could take his sword and defend her against any enemy that crossed their paths, but when it came to matters beyond his control, a sword was not the weapon to deal in such matters. It was in times like these that a much stronger weapon was required: his heart.  
"You won't," Jorah placed his index finger on Daenerys' chin and lifted it up. "You heard what the midwives said. The heartbeat is strong," He looked deeply into her eyes, those eyes that he could get lost in for eternity. "Whatever fears we may be feeling now will dissolve in a few weeks when we welcome the child and are finally able to hold him or her in our arms,"  
Daenerys took his hand. "I know. But until…oh…" She gave a choked laugh and looked downward.  
"Khaleesi?"  
"The baby," Daenerys took his hand and placed it on her stomach, "The baby is moving. Can you feel it?"  
Jorah broke into a smile. "I can," he replied. "You see? Our baby is fine. Everything will turn out all right," He only hoped he sounded more confident than he felt.


	9. Chapter 9

Jon was grateful for a reprieve from the snow. The air was still frigid on Dragonstone and the winds sometimes howled like a pack of angry wolves, yet it was a welcome sight to see the grass and dirt beneath his boots. While the island was not always free from frozen crystals, when the storms did come it never amounted to more than a foot deep. In recent days though, there had been no more than a layer of frozen crust on the ground.  
"Some of the more superstitious people among the island take this as a good omen," Tyrion commented one day. "They say it signals that the birth of the human dragon will bring spring upon us,"  
Jon smiled wanly. "I wish that were true, as that would mean spring would be upon us any day now,"  
"The Maesters speak of spring as well," Varys added. "Not from mere tales mind you, but from meteorological reports. They say we'll soon be rid of the worst of the long winter,"  
Jon's mind strayed back to Winterfell. Daenerys had been true to her word in sending provisionings; she'd also been true to her word when she stated that there had been an outbreak of a sickness among the animals on the island. At first Sansa didn't believe it to be true ("It's too convenient," she'd said), but in the end Daenerys had been right. Like the inhabitants of Dragonstone, Jon was wondering whether this was merely just a bad turn for nature, or if some foul work of human intervention was at play.  
Either way, the somewhat warmer temperatures (if one could call it that) on Dragonstone had yielded certain crops that would never have survived Winterfell's current conditions, hence one of the reasons Jon had traveled to the island: not only would he be obtaining crops for distribution in Winterfell and the North, but also to finalize battle plans for King's Landing.  
The men of the North, the Dorthraki, and the Unsullied would ride to King's Landing. Should the people refuse to let them enter, they would take it by force. If it came to that, they would do their best to prevent civilian casualties, for it was the Lannisters and those governing and protecting the Red Keep that were of interest.  
While Daenerys would not ride into battle on horseback like the others, she would fly in on Drogon. This decision was two-fold: first, to protect her from fighting on the ground; second, to reveal their strength, as symbolized by Drogon, to Queen Cersei. But they would not enact this plan until Daenerys had her child.  
Jon could tell when they held the council meetings that Daenerys was growing restless from waiting. She wanted the throne, she wanted the Lannister armies and their allies eliminated so they could pose no future threats, and she wanted to hold her child. But at the moment she could do none of that, only bide her time within the castle walls until the day arrived.  
"It's funny," Jon thought at one of these council meetings, "The child has yet to be born yet already holds such great power, with the title of who shall be Queen hanging in the balance," His musings would have taken him further had the sound of boots scraping against the stone floor and the door to the Chamber of the Painted Table opening not brought him from his thoughts.  
Daenerys stood as a group of Unsullied entered. They were not to be disturbed during council meetings unless an emergency was upon them.  
The leader of the small group of Unsullied bowed. "I apologize for the intrusion Your Grace," he said, "But we have an urgent matter concerning your dragon,"  
Daenerys face went stone cold. Jon knew Drogon had not been seen in days, but this was not uncommon. The creature came and went as he pleased, feasting in the open pastures and flying wherever his heart desired. He'd been told the same had been true in Meereen.  
"What kind of matter," Daenerys' voice was rigid.  
"We were patrolling the island when we can upon Drogon," The man paused. "He appeared very sickly and unable to move. We believe he is dying, your Grace,"  
Jon looked back at Daenerys as she sat back down. Her eyes were moist, but she refused to shed a single tear. It must have taken every inch of her being to hold back her emotions, because he thought he saw her trembling. "Where did you find him?"  
"In the pastures due north east,"  
Without any further questions, Daenerys addressed her assistant. "Missandei, have the stable boys prepare my stead, we will be riding shortly,"  
"Your Grace," Jorah interjected, "A ride to this location would take almost half a day's journey. In your condition I think it would be best to-"  
"My condition is not the concern," Daenerys shot back. "If what the Unsullied say is true, Drogon is dying. I refuse to let him die alone like his siblings did back in Meereen,"  
"We should consider your child as well," Missandei advised. "The midwives have stated that the way you are carrying you are due any day now,"  
"Then we will bring the two most experienced of them with us," Daenerys said flatly. "I rode when I bore Rhaego, just like any other women in a Khal. This ride will be no different,"  
The look on Jorah's face suggested otherwise, but it was not his place to disagree with her any further, at least not in front of the entirety of the council. So Jorah, like Jon, did the only thing he could do- stand silently as Daenerys departed the room.


	10. Chapter 10

Jorah had not traveled left the castle without providing his thoughts on the matter concerning Drogon.  
"You must think about this rationally," Jorah said to Daenerys as one of the handmaids placed a fur-lined coat around the queen's shoulders. "Within the last few hours the snows have begun to fall again, and what's more is the distance to where he was last seen is more akin to a journey,"  
"Drogon is one of my own," Daenerys said. She'd hidden the pain she'd felt in the Chamber of the Painted Table earlier; now, she wore a hardened mask of a queen who had seen far too much in too short a time. "If he truly is dying, I will not leave him unaccompanied,"  
A surge of frustration overcame the knight. Was she blind to all the potential obstacles or simply that reckless? "Drogon is not of your blood," Jorah said. "The child inside you, however, is. Tell me, is the life of a dying animal more valuable than that of a human child?"  
This sudden outburst caught Daenerys' attention. Regarding Jorah with a combination of hurt and fury he'd never seen her express before, she bit out "My dragons are no ordinary creatures. When they hatched, it was the closest thing I had to filling the void from losing Rhaego. Not only are they smart and powerful, but they made me strong. What's more, dragons had not been seen for generations. It was I who brought them forth, as if my presence-" Daenerys cut off, her emotions bleeding from that of anger to a shocked understanding.  
"Khaleesi?" Jorah's tone was softer now.  
"…As if my presence brought about the magic that was required to make them live," Daenerys finished. "That was it…this is what the woman in Meereen foretold," Daenerys looked down at her abdomen. "My life would not return to normal until the magic died. It was the death of my last dragon that would allow me to finally have my own child,"  
Free from the irritation he felt moments prior, Jorah grasped Daenerys' hands in his. "Then stay here," he pleaded. "Stay with me, away from the magic and the dangers winter brings. Stay by the hearth, and where the midwives can take care of you,"  
For a moment Daenerys seemed to consider his words, but after a moment she let her hands fall from his. "No," she replied, "I need to be with Drogon. If I don't make an attempt to be with him when he passes, I will regret it the rest of my life. And I will take every precaution to ensure that our child is safe in process," Daenerys turned back to the handmaiden so the woman could finish getting her ready. "You can come with us Jorah, or you can stay behind. The choice is yours,"

Snowflakes pelted Daenerys' face as she rode through the fields. The precipitation had grown twice the size since they started out, and she feared it would grow larger yet, if not in diameter then in intensity.  
At first Jorah had kept up with Daenerys' steed, but after the first hour he fell a few paces behind, shielding her and Missandei from any possible dangers that trailed behind.  
"He is upset with my decision," Daenerys thought, "And rightfully so," She did not expect Jorah to fully understand why she was riding out to see Drogon, but in the end she was glad he had ridden with her. Daenerys knew he would; she could always depend on her bear to protect her.  
The kicks she felt from within, however, suggested her child had sided with Jorah on the matter.  
"Please do not side with your father on this," Daenerys said. She would have placed her hands soothingly on her stomach, but with the pace of her horse and the wind picking up she needed to hold onto the reigns. Her voice alone would have to do.

"Shall we go back to Dragonstone, your Grace?" Missandei asked. "If we turn back now, we could make it to the castle by nightfall,"  
"No," Daenerys said briskly. "We will continue to ride,"  
And so they did, through the snow and the wind, until they came upon the giant reptilian creature who was already beginning to cover in snow.  
"He's still alive!" Daenerys shouted as she dismounted her horse. While Drogon's breathing was labored, she could see the dragon's chest rising and falling. She was not too late.  
Daenerys was the first to reach the creature. Tearing off her gloves, she threw them aside and rested her bare hands on the scaled head. "I'm here now," Daenerys said soothingly as Drogon's eyes flickered open at the sound of her voice, "And I won't leave you,"  
"It's not fair," Daenerys thought as she stroked Drogon, "That I must trade my winged children for my human child," Where was the justice? She'd wanted her son or daughter to live in a world where a human dragon sat upon the throne while the scaled ones ruled the skies, but that dream was diminished as she watched Drogon quickly fade away.  
"Was it the sickened animals that harmed Drogon?" Daenerys wondered. It was the only explanation she could think of, as the creature showed no wounds. What else could he have eaten other than the animals on the island that would have affected him in such a way?  
As if reading her thoughts, Drogon responded by gently nudging Daenerys' stomach, as if to say, "Do not concern yourself with what has happened to me, for now It is your child that needs the protection,"  
Daenerys laid her head upon Drogon's and, still stroking the creature's head, whispered "I love you to the edge of the skies and back, my child," She remained like this until Drogon's eyes closed for the last time.


	11. Chapter 11

It was over before Jorah could reach Daenerys.  
"Almost as if Drogon knew his mother was coming, but refused to let his soul depart before she arrived," Jorah thought as he dismounted his horse. If that was true, then the journey had been well worth it.  
Jorah's heart sank. Despite what he'd said earlier, the dragons held a special place in his heart. They were magnificent creatures, and Daenerys had loved them as if they were her own. He'd grown used to the resonances of their wings beating against the air and their thunderous roars. Now, it would seem, he would never hear those sounds again.  
"Stand guard while Daenerys mourns. When she is done, cut a tooth from Drogon's mouth. She will want to add it to the necklace that holds Rhaegal and Viserion's,"  
The snow crunched beneath Jorah's feet as he made his way towards Daenerys. He watched, agitated, as Daenerys began to sink to her knees. He assumed this was an initial reaction to grief, until she let out a cry and grasped her stomach.  
"Daenerys!" Jorah tore through the snow as fast as his legs would carry him, defying the wind while his heart beating frantically, and reaching her just as she slumped into his arms.  
"The baby," Daenerys face was almost as pale as the snow falling around them, "The baby is coming,"  
Jorah felt his stomach drop. Not here, not in the wilderness, not amid the falling snow. "Do you think you can ride?" Daenerys bit her lip and shook her head no. "Thandi, Kaeeta!" Jorah called to the midwives. "Come at once, we require your assistance,"  
"I had to come out here," Daenerys tightened her grip on Jorah, "To see Drogon. But I never expected our child…"  
"I know," Jorah wrapped Daenerys in an embrace to shield her from the falling snow, "I know. You did everything you could for him,"  
"But at what cost?"  
Jorah pulled backwards so Daenerys could look into his eyes. "There will be no cost," Jorah promised, pushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Our child will be fine, no matter where he or she is delivered. We have two of the best midwives in Essos right here with us to ensure this,"  
"The boulders over there," one of the Unsullied pointed towards their right, "They are the sides to the entrance of a small cave, spanning less than a half a mile in length. We could move her in there,"  
Jorah peered across the field, shielding his eyes from the flakes. The rocks were barely visible underneath the snow, but he could make them out. "If there are no animals to trouble us, then I agree," Jorah said. "It will protect us from the elements, and we can light a fire for warmth,"  
The man nodded. "Shall we carry her?"  
Jorah scooped Daenerys into his arms, trying to ignore the memory that he had done the same thing when her time had come with Rhaego. "There is no need," he responded. She was always as light as a feather in his arms.


	12. Chapter 12

Stopping at the end of one of the cavern's tunnels, Jorah carefully laid Daenerys on a pile of blankets.  
"Seek fuel for the fire while we get everything ready," one of the midwives told Jorah. "Once a sufficient amount of kindling has been acquired, return to us. From then on out, you may stay with her until she nears her time,"  
A shiver that had nothing to do with the temperature went down Daenerys' spine. She had just lost her last dragon; she was not eager to cast Jorah off so quickly.  
"Get the kindling," Daenerys agreed, "But when you come back, you may stay with me,"  
"Your Grace, it is not customary for any man be present when a child arrives," the other midwife said.  
"Be that as it may," Daenerys said. "If other women who bear children do not wih for a man to be present, then so be it. But I am the Queen, and given the current circumstances, I do not care much for customs when my child comes into the world,"  
Jorah knelt on one knee and kissed Daenerys' hand, his eyes shining. "I will be here if you wish,"  
Daenerys ran her fingers across his stubbled cheek. "We created this life together. You deserve to be here when he or she arrives,"  
Cradling her head in his hand, Jorah kissed her forehead and placed the other hand on her stomach. "I will be here for you both,"  
While Jorah and some of Unsullied gathered firewood, Missandei and the midwives tended to Daenerys' needs, though her demands were few. It was her hopes she desired most, and these were not tangible. She hoped the snow would end soon; she hoped she would have an easy delivery; she hoped there would be no complications for either the child or her. But there was nothing Daenerys could do in the meantime but wait amongst the stones.  
True to his word, Jorah and the Unsullied came back with enough kindling to warm the tunnel for hours. "The Unsullied will retrieve more when needed," Jorah informed the four women. "In the meantime, they will stand guard in front of both the tunnel and the cave,"  
Walking over to Daenerys, Jorah took a seat next to his wife. "Missandei," he said, "Can you give us a moment?" The handmaid nodded and walked over to join the Unsullied in helping start the fire.  
"Did they retrieve a tooth?" Daenerys asked.  
Jorah reached into his pocket and pulled out something wrapped in a small beige cloth. Carefully unfolding it, her produced a white tooth, already bound by a cord. Placing the crude necklace around Daenerys' neck, Jorah said "When we get back to Dragonstone we'll have it modified to fit the one you already wear,"  
Daenerys turned the tooth over in her hands, then let it fall next to the other two that hung from her neck. Her emotions were thick with grief, but she couldn't allow herself to drown in sorrow for the loss of her dragon. The time to mourn was later. For now, she had to be strong for her child.  
Jorah tried changing the subject. "This setting is ironic, actually," he said as he looked around the stone enclosure. "Us Mormont's take pride in the symbol of our bear. Some would even say that it's fate that a bear's child would be born in a cave,"  
Daenerys' slid her hand around Jorah's and clasped her fingers tightly around his. "Our cub,"  
"Yes," Jorah gave a small chuckle. It was the first time Daenerys had seen him express any amount of relief all day. "Our cub,"


	13. Chapter 13

A fair number of hours later, it was time.  
Jorah sat next to Daenerys, allowing her to squeeze his hand with all her might despite how it was affecting his blood circulation. Missandei kept a cup of melted snow nearby, applying it to Daenerys' face and adding words of encouragement when she could.  
"You're almost there," one of the midwives said. "Any moment now,"  
Daenerys tried to diffuse the pain by conjuring images and positive reinforcements in her mind. "I will have a son, Geor," she thought, imagining a child in her arms, "Or a daughter, Rhaella. After years of running, of wishing, of dreaming, I will finally have a family,"  
Then, with one final strained effort, the child arrived.  
Daenerys fell backwards as she gasped from exhaustion. She'd done it. Her baby was here. Then, after a second, a realization came to her.  
"Why isn't the baby crying?"  
Though tears of pain blurred her vision, Daenerys could make out two of the midwives carrying the child to the side and talking amongst themselves. "Jorah," she asked as her voice went up an octave, "What's going on? Is the baby okay?" Her words may as well have fallen on deaf ears because he didn't respond, only continued looking in the direction of the midwives.  
Finally, one of the midwives spoke. "I'm sorry, your Grace, but your son did not make it. Based on the condition, he's been gone for a few weeks,"  
"That's impossible!" she cried. "I felt him moving as we rode towards Drogon, I know I did. You have to do something,"  
"I'm sorry, but there is nothing we can do,"  
Daenerys felt like a weight had pinned her to the cavern floor. Her mind was a hollowed slate as her consciousness was a mix of pain and unbelief, until she saw a female figure standing at the mouth of the tunnel. Propping herself up on her elbows, she realized it was the beggar woman who had made the prophecy back in Essos: "It is only when the magic is no more than you may receive what has been taken away,"  
"My last dragon is gone!" Daenerys shouted at the woman. "The magic is no more. You promised I would receive what had been taken away!"  
"Your Grace," Missandei asked cautiously, "Who are you speaking to? There is no one there,"  
A burst of winter wind raged through the tunnel. As it touched the phantom woman she blew away like ash, as if she'd never been present. The prophecy had been fulfilled.  
Daenerys thought back to the blood she'd seen on the bedsheets a few weeks prior. Was that the moment she lost her son? Did the disappearance of the magic not come soon enough?  
It was in that heartbreaking moment that Daenerys realized the Iron Throne was not her deepest desire; it was to have a family. Let someone else take the throne, the crown, the jewels, even if it was that wretched Cersei! All Daenerys wanted was a babe in her arms and Jorah by her side. Power was nothing compared to love.  
Then, without warning, a new round of searing pain cut across Daenerys' abdomen. Her screams finally breaking Jorah from his trance, he asked "What's happening?" One of the midwives rushed over, but when she didn't respond immediately, Jorah thundered "WHAT'S HAPPENING TO HER?"  
The woman set to work, pulling on all the knowledge she had, until a look of surprise overtook her face. "She's carrying another,"  
"What?" Daenerys was barely able to speak anymore.  
"You've been carrying twins your Grace,"  
Jorah's grip on Daenerys tightened at the news.  
Now it was Missandei's turn to be upset. "You three are supposed to be some of the best midwives in Essos!" she said angrily. "How could you NOT know she was carrying twins this entire time?"  
"There were no indications," the other midwife said as she hurried over, "Nor did we have any record of the Queen's previous weight to compare,"  
Her head swimming from pain and everything she'd learned in the last few minutes, Daenerys closed her eyes as she laid back on the ground. She was only vaguely aware of Missandei wiping her brow with snowmelt.  
"Be strong, no matter what the cost," she thought. "Your cub needs you now more than ever,"  
Grasping Jorah's hand once more, she gave all she had until she heard the newborn's cries.  
"It's a girl!" one of the midwives announced. Quickly wrapping the newborn in a blanket and severing the tie between mother and child, the baby was presented to the new parents.  
Daenerys couldn't stop crying when Rhaella was placed in her arms. The babe was perfect in every way, from her small pink face to the short wisps of white-blonde hair on her tiny head. The newborn cried, but only because of the change in temperature and setting. In that moment it was the sweetest sound Daenerys had ever heard, for it meant life.  
"Our daughter," Jorah cried, his own eyes shinning with tears as he kissed Daenerys and carefully stroked the blanketed bundle. "She's finally here,"  
[First and foremost, I want to apologize if I upset anyone with Daenerys having a stillborn. The plan was to just give Daenerys a healthy daughter, but the decision on the twins was twofold: 1. Daenerys is one of three children, and she has three dragons. In continuing with the use of the number three, while reading "A Clash of Kings", it's also mentioned in one of the Daenerys' chapters that there are many things that come in threes. With regards to my story, Rhaego would be Daenerys' first child, while the are the second and third. 2. For anyone who's seen season eight, we know Daenerys became blinded by power. In this story, the death of another child would allow character development in the sense that Daenerys would realize power wasn't everything, especially without love or family.  
Now, with all that being said, you can find the next story in the series under "A Mother's Armor".]


End file.
